


What are the odds?

by dino76



Series: What are the odds? [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Crack, Discipline, Family, Gen, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-17
Updated: 2018-07-17
Packaged: 2019-06-11 20:48:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15323994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dino76/pseuds/dino76
Summary: Lucifer is in a bad place after Chloe sees his Devil Face. He employs some very unhealthy coping mechanisms, spiralling until Mum decides to interfere and find a way back from her own universe. Warning: Contains spanking/corporal punishment. Stay clear if that's not your cup of tea!





	What are the odds?

**Author's Note:**

> I really don’t know where this idea came from. LOL I blame ficwriterjet entirely. Well, maybe not entirely. It could possibly be called a joined effort :D Thanks very much for your patience and awesome advice! I really enjoyed writing this since I was desperate for Mum to be back. I hope you’ll enjoy it too :)

“Daniel! To what do I owe the pleasure?” Lucifer asked, not bothering to mask his annoyance at seeing him. He’d been in a crap mood ever since the whole Cain fiasco and his accidental reveal. The Detective had been shocked and needed some time to process and he couldn’t blame her. She’d been surprisingly… composed though. The Doctor had taken it a lot worse. But the radio silence still grated on him. It made him restless and listless simultaneously, so he had done his utmost to take his mind off the matter. An incredibly difficult task; although the booze and drugs had certainly done their part. Just today he had managed to palm a nice bag of cocaine from the precinct and he was looking forward to working through it.

 

Daniel’s unexpected arrival put a damper on that venture though and therefore did _absolutely nothing_ to lift his mood. He doubted that Daniel’s entry had ever caused elation anywhere. They didn’t hate each other anymore, sure, and in the course of the last two weeks they’d been teamed up more often, but that didn’t mean their budding friendship extended to social calls already. At least, he’d hoped it didn’t.

 

“No, not Daniel,” he replied, stepping farther into the room. Lucifer hesitated for a moment, frowning. Despite the pleasant buzz brought about by a delightful mixture of top-notch scotch and mediocre cocaine, the other man’s gait and posture immediately alerted him to the fact that something was definitely off. _Way off_. He wasn’t about to deny that there might have been some instances where he’d studied Daniel intensely. And who would blame him? The man was nice to look at. _Especially_ sans shirt. Because of these moments of astute observation, the oddities now practically jumped at him. The tilt of his hips, the quirky flick of his hand and the furrowed brows all painted a very, _very_ alarming picture.

 

An uncomfortable tingling settled at the back of his skull, drowning out the drug-induced lethargy. He tried to ignore it, of course. It wasn’t possible. He’d made sure of that. The drugs must be messing with him; maybe they were of a better quality than he had first assumed.

 

He blinked rapidly, shaking his head slightly in a vain attempt to clear his dazed thoughts and chase away the drowsiness. But the troubling feeling remained – as well as the strangeness in Dan’s appearance. As clearly as ever. The tingling advanced to an incessant humming, as he continued to stare at Daniel, trying to come to terms with what was presented before him.

 

“Mum?” he asked uncertainly, heart frantically beating in his chest and _desperately_ hoping that he wasn’t making a fool of himself. He’d never live it down. He’d have to leave LA, _no_ , the US, if he was mistaken. There was no way he could blame this on drug-induced hallucinations.

 

“Yes,” he – _she?_ replied, approaching him and the confirmation took a huge load off his mind. A heavy gust of air whistled through his teeth, and he only barely managed to avoid an embarrassing hitch in his breath. Mind whirling frantically, he succumbed to the sudden, overwhelming urge to hug his Mother. Dad, he’d _missed_ her! Wrapping his arms around her surprisingly bulky form, he ignored the bout of awkwardness that embracing Detective Douche brought about and the embarrassment that threatened to creep up his spine at running to his Mummy like a child. There was plenty of time to be mortified about that later. When he was alone again and his brain had no other pressing matters but to fret about this horribly humiliating encounter.

 

Mum returned his hug, one of her hands coming up to rest at the nape of his neck, as they had done so often in the past and he immediately relaxed. This was _nice_. He buried his face in her shoulder, eyes clenched firmly shut to drown out the fact that he was hugging Dan, of all people.

 

“I’ve missed you,” he mumbled, promptly feeling silly once the words left his mouth, but Mum just tightened her hold on him.

 

“I’ve missed you too, my boy.” They remained like this for several long moments, until Lucifer could no longer quiet the nagging voice in his head and pulled back. He shuffled his feet, abashed at his display of emotions, and turned away to get his facial features back under control.

 

“Well, this is awkward.” He looked back at Mum – no, Daniel – no, Mum in Daniel’s body, trying to come to terms with the situation. The mind-boggling emotion of happiness combined with the buzz was making rational thinking rather hard. He felt almost giddy with excitement at Mum’s sudden appearance – even if it was in form of Detective Douche. It was probably best not to fret about that too hard, though. Thankfully, _not thinking_ about disturbing things was one of his specialties.

 

He’d just have to come to adjust to the fact that his Mother was now in Daniel’s body – and be more careful to not call her ‘Mum’ in public. Shouldn’t be too hard, now, should it?

 

“Not that I particularly care, but what did you do to poor Daniel?” he finally settled to ask, interrupting Mum’s survey of his indisputably messy apartment. A sudden pang of remorse filled him as he realised that Daniel must have died for his Mother to appear in his body. His happiness about seeing Mum again was slightly diminished by the thought of Daniel’s untimely demise.

 

“Nothing. He’s in here somewhere,” he – _she_ , he’d just go with the feminine pronoun, he decided – replied.

 

“What do you mean ‘in here’?” His face scrunched up in confusion. At least that meant Daniel had not left the earthly plane, to undoubtedly go to Hell, because of the guilt that came along with killing someone – no matter how well deserving Malcolm had been. “Is he watching us right now? – Because that would be a little creepy.”

 

“Creepy? This is his body, Lucifer. I’m only borrowing – not taking over.” He scowled at the matter-of-fact tone in which it was delivered. He hated being berated like a child.

 

“Yes, thankfully. It would be even more worrisome than looking at you in the body of a hot woman.” A very visible shudder ran through him at the memory of Mum in Charlotte Richard’s stunning body. He would be lying if he said that it hadn’t ruined some things for him.

 

“I am not here to talk about sharing Daniel’s body,” she said, putting her hands on her hips. An incredibly intimidating move, Lucifer decided. It propelled him back to a time when Mum and Dad had still been happy and he or his siblings had got up to some mischief. He shook off the nasty sensation of dread. Surely Mum did not return solely to scold him. He didn’t even do anything deserving of a reprimand as of late.

 

He might have gone a bit overboard with the illegal substances, but that was nothing he hadn’t done before and certainly no reason for Mum to make an appearance. Not like it could kill him, now, was it?

 

He had squabbled with Amenadiel a bit more lately. But he certainly couldn’t be blamed for that! Ever since getting his wings back and returning after personally delivering Charlotte at the Gates of Heaven, he had been a righteous bother. Surely Mum would find no fault in his attempt to knock him down a few pegs.

 

“But you do agree that it should get mentioned,” Lucifer interjected instead, pushing the uncomfortable thoughts about telling-offs and scoldings firmly to the back of his head. “Because let me tell you, it is quite unsettling from my perspective.”

 

“I have been watching you,” she went on, ignoring his input. “You and Amenadiel. – And let me tell you, young man, you would be well advised to straighten up your act.” He wanted to protest against being called ‘young man’, and had just about opened his mouth to deliver a scorching retort, when Mum continued, “Do not assume that I won’t interfere just because I am not permanently on this plane of existence.”

 

“What on earth do you mean?” Lucifer scoffed after he overcame his momentary speechlessness. He reached for the earlier abandoned bottle of scotch to pour himself a generous amount, simply because he wanted to and not at all because he was looking for a way to still his fiddling fingers.

 

“You know exactly what I mean,” Mum replied. “The drinking? The drugs? The heedless risks you take with your life at your human job?”

 

“Mum, this-”

 

“No, I am not finished,” she cut him off harshly. “The constant fights with your brother? Your rudeness towards Daniel – who is only trying to help you, by the way. It is going to stop.” He snorted loudly and rolled his eyes, he couldn’t help it, although he knew that Mum hated it with a passion. The happiness about seeing her again was quickly replaced by resentment about her concern and reprimand. “I’m going to ignore your attitude just this once. – But mark my words, Lucifer, you will reel in that temper and behave yourself like I raised you to, or I will be back to set you straight myself.”

 

He wanted to bristle again at her sharp tone and overt threat, he really did, but her expression softened as quickly as it had sharpened and she leant up to press a gentle kiss to his temple, pulling him into another hug, and his resentment vanished almost immediately.

 

“It was good seeing you, darling.” She squeezed his arms affectionately after pulling back and let her eyes travel over his features. The scrutiny caused an odd jittery feeling in his legs and he had to employ considerable willpower to keep them firmly on the floor. “You really let yourself go,” she tutted, making a feeble attempt to smooth his unruly (and unwashed) hair. He couldn’t contradict her statement. He had spent his nights partying excessively before extracting himself from his latest conquest (or three) and stumbling into the precinct in the morning – washing down the stale taste in his mouth with a generous swig of whiskey and without bothering to partake in his usual grooming process. On some days he hadn’t even managed to change his suit, unable to look at himself in the mirror and be reminded of the monster that he was.

 

“I’m…” he started, but cut himself off again, not finding anything to say in his defence.

 

“Take better care of yourself, Lucifer,” Mum said, voice growing stern again, and cupped his cheek with a soft hand. Surprisingly soft, given the fact that it was Daniel’s hand. “Or I will be back.”

 

Staring at her angrily for ruining this nice moment with her unnecessary scolding, Lucifer could spot the exact moment, as her soul left Daniel’s body again and the man himself returned.

 

“What the hell just happened?” Dan came back with a start, hands frantically patting himself down, wriggling his fingers and touching his face. Meanwhile Lucifer tried to appear as inconspicuously as possible, lest he startled Dan even more. The poor man’s head was awfully empty on a good day; he didn’t want to imagine what kind of damage a reveal of these proportions would do to him. Maybe he’d just drop dead. A possibility that would also deliver Lucifer from this horribly humiliating situation. Leave it to Mum to find a way to _co-inhabit_ a body. Because resurrecting someone dead was apparently not enough anymore to make his life thoroughly miserable.

 

No, now his debasement extended to the fact that Daniel _knew_ about his Mother’s hands-on approach to his life. _Thanks very much for that, Mum._

 

But there was no sense dwelling over Mum and her asinine ideas and choices right now. So with some difficulty he forced his train of thoughts back to the issue at hand: saving Daniel from serious brain damage – and ridding himself of the current feeling of mortification by getting thoroughly soused and high.

 

“What just happened?” Dan repeated, eyeing Lucifer suspiciously, now that he had been reassured that his limbs were still firmly attached to his body.

 

“That was my Mother,” Lucifer replied. It was probably best to plough right through it. Like ripping of a band aid. Wasn’t that what humans always said? Best to get it over with quickly. “You remember her, right? The woman who inhabited Charlotte’s body for some time? – The both of you had naked fun together?” Dan appeared to be having some kind of aneurism. “Anyway, I sent her to her own universe, using Azrael’s blade at the beach and now she’s apparently found a way back. Most likely to make my life miserable again. So lucky me. – And you. Because she now shares your body.”

 

Dan blinked slowly a couple of times, looking like his brain was malfunctioning, and, feeling sorry for him, Lucifer poured a liberal amount of scotch before carefully nudging the glass in his direction. He waited a few beats, anxious to see some kind of reaction, but no such luck. Dan just continued to stare at him blankly. It must be really hard having to deal with a thinking process as slow as Daniel’s, he thought ruefully.

 

“What?” That wasn’t quite the reaction Lucifer had hoped for, but at least Daniel’s brain hadn’t shut down when faced with … all of this. “Charlotte was your _mother_?” Really? That was what he’d go for?

 

“No,” he replied, making sure to talk slowly as not to overwhelm poor Daniel. “Charlotte died that day in the hotel room. My Mother, Goddess of all Creation, escaped Hell and inhabited her body in a ploy to get back to the Silver City and continue fighting with Dad. I sent her to her own universe, she left Charlotte’s body and Charlotte herself returned from Hell, being granted a second chance at life. – Didn’t my Mother explain any of this to you?”

 

Dan blinked again, lips slightly parted. Lucifer briefly wondered if flicking the side of his head would snap him out of this stupor.

 

“No-yes, she did,” Daniel replied, still horribly confused. “But I thought I’d had a bad dream.”

 

“I wish.”

 

“So, your talk about being the Devil is true?” Daniel asked.

 

“Now you’re getting it!” Lucifer cheered. “Well done.”

 

“You’re the actual Devil?” Dan repeated. “Satan? From the bible?”

 

“The one and only.”

 

“And that … inside me right now… was your mother?” He nodded. “Who came back…”

 

“From her own universe, yes.”

 

“Huh.”

 

“You’re not scared, Daniel?” he asked after an awkward pause, eyeing Dan nervously. He looked oddly at ease with this turn of events. Maybe his diminished brain capacity was making him more accepting of all things celestial. Lucifer really didn’t have a lot of experience with these sorts of things to be honest. Not revealing himself to humans was one of his Dad’s few rules that he’d adhered by. Until the Doctor demanded truth, of course. Scaring the odd sinner here and there didn’t count; no one ever believed them anyway.

 

“No,” Dan replied slowly, face scrunched up in confusion. It really wasn’t an attractive look and he wondered again how his Mother could be so smitten with him. “No, I’m not. – It makes a weird amount of sense actually.”

 

“All right. Not what I expected, I’ll admit. But … it’s a pleasant change.” He raised his glass tipping it towards Dan in a silent salute. Dan seemed to be deep in thought though. – Or as deeply as possible for him, anyway.

 

“So, my Nana was wrong,” he said, finally snapping out of his stupor and reaching for the earlier offered glass. “You’re not evil.”

 

“No, no, I’m not,” he agreed slowly, pouring another glass.

 

“I mean I’ve known you for almost three years now. You’re not evil. – Immature. Impulsive. An _absolute_ pain in the butt. With no regard to social rules, sure.” Lucifer couldn’t help but bristle at Dan’s candid words, throwing him a dark look that Dan ignored completely. “And how can you be evil if you’re still cowed by your mom’s threats?” Dan’s baffled expression did nothing to help quell the acute humiliation he felt at the reminder of Mum’s dire threats.

 

“What did she mean by the way?” Dan asked before he could voice his anger, smiling almost deviously. “You looked pretty impressed.” Momentarily at a loss for words, Lucifer could only ball his hands in anger and open and close his mouth a couple of times. Most likely looking ridiculous. “Never mind,” Dan said with a laugh. “I’m sure I’ll get to see sooner or later.”

 

 

*

 

 

The next couple of days passed in something of a blur. After Daniel had left three days ago, he’d spent his evening in a desperate attempt to drown out the utter humiliation Mum’s visit had brought. But distraction only went so far. Once his bedmates had been shagged into oblivion, and the pleasant buzz of post-coital satisfaction combined with the delightful high of drugs and booze started to wear off, the mortification slowly seeped back and gathered in a tight ball in his stomach. Loosening it up with alcohol had worked only marginally, and merely long enough for his supernatural metabolism to kick in and ruin the fun.

 

Mum really couldn’t have chosen a more embarrassing manner of returning to this plane of existence. Facing Daniel afterwards had been an entirely awkward and distressing endeavour and it had taken all of his considerable determination to actually return to the precinct. But he really didn’t have any other options. He was the Devil. There was no way _in Hell_ he’d cower and hide like a child just because his Mummy had scolded him in public.

 

No, hiding would only cement that he was indeed swayed by his Mother’s stern words. _Which he wasn’t_. What was there to be afraid of, anyway? Daniel was human. He was not. Any method Mum had employed in the past to punish her children would be rendered useless. He couldn’t be hurt by a human and he certainly couldn’t be overpowered by one.

 

The thought did _absolutely_ nothing to lessen his mortification though.

 

He’d tried masking his embarrassment by being especially rude and condescending, but Daniel seemed to have embraced his better self and was actually putting in an effort to make him more comfortable. It had failed spectacularly, _of course_. But kudos for the attempt.

 

Lux’s doors wouldn’t open for another few hours, but still there was a pleasant hum of activity surrounding him. His staff prepping the bar, filling up liquor cabinets and whatever else needed to be done to have his club running smoothly. He knew that he could trust them to keep things going, and they sensed that their boss would be better left alone at the bar. He had several fine bottles of scotch as company; he certainly wasn’t in the mood for anyone else’s ramblings.

 

He’d succeeded in chasing Amenadiel away, who had annoyed him with his presence only to lecture him. It seemed his holier-than-thou brother had no other pressing matters to attend to but pestering him with advice. A notion that Lucifer had disabused him of quickly.

 

He was just relishing in his new found peace and quiet, as his second least favourite person entered the bar.

 

“Ah, Daniel, what an unpleasant surprise,” he greeted, thoroughly regretting that he’d ever made unrestricted allowances for Detective Douche to enter his club. “I assumed I wouldn’t have to face your ugly mug again until tomorrow.”

 

“I really hate to disappoint, but no,” Daniel replied sarcastically. “I came to check on you.”

 

“And to what do I owe that unpleasantness?” he asked, eyeing Dan critically. “It’s surely not coming from the goodness of your heart.”

 

“I …” Dan heaved a decidedly long-suffering sigh. “I’m worried about you. – You’re behaving even more off kilter than usual.” Lucifer scoffed, refilling his glass. “What are you doing, man? This?” Daniel said, snatching the glass out of his hand. “Is not the answer.”

 

“It’s good I’m not looking for an answer, then, hm?”

 

“It’s not gonna make you feel better. – Not in the long run.”

 

“How would you know, Detective Douche?” he sneered, hand reaching to recover possession of his glass, but Dan moved it out of his reach easily. He leant forward further in pursuit of the liquor, almost toppling headfirst off the barstool if Daniel hadn’t reacted quickly and kept him upright. And still the desired object remained just beyond his range. He scowled angrily.

 

“Okay, I think it’s time for you to sleep it off,” Dan said, completely ignoring his very blatant resentment. A strong hand gripped his biceps and directed him off the barstool with surprisingly little effort. He stumbled briefly, before righting himself and yanking his arm out of Daniel’s grasp. Enough was enough, he decided. Having to deal with his intolerable kindness and concern was bad enough; he didn’t need help – least of all Daniel’s.

 

“And _I_ think that would be none of your concern,” he replied disdainfully. Dan caught his arm again as he attempted to get back to his spot at the bar and he whirled around angrily.

 

“Come on, man,” Dan said. “It’s probably for the best. – You should slow down with all of that.” He made a vague gesture towards the liquor and the cocaine residue on the bar top, but finally let go of his arm and Lucifer hoisted himself up on his earlier unwillingly vacated seat. It took him a few attempts, but eventually he managed. Feeling quite proud of his accomplishment, he couldn’t refrain from giving Dan a _“so there”_ look, before grabbing another bottle from behind the bar, blatantly ignoring Daniel’s input.

 

“Don’t do that, Lucifer,” he pleaded, again trying to take the bottle out of his hand. But this time Lucifer was prepared and angled his body away. “Just … don’t. – Your mother’s … not pleased.” Lucifer scoffed at him.

 

“And that’s supposed to scare me?” he asked sceptically. “Do you really think that I’m still afraid of my Mother?”

 

“You really, _really_ should be,” Dan said desperately. “Seriously. – She’s freaking furious. I can … feel it.”

 

He purposely took another swig straight from the bottle, eyes firmly locked on Dan’s desperate face.

 

“Don’t do that!” he repeated, angry, grabbing the bottle.

 

“You’re draining my patience, Daniel.”

 

“Please, just – you’re tired and cranky. Sleep will help.” Dan’s desperate expression might have been funny, if Lucifer wasn’t overcome by a sudden bout of rage at the Douche’s candid words.

 

“I’m not cranky,” he bit out, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.

 

“Petulant, then,” Dan replied, again trying to put the booze out of his reach, and just like that what little control he still had of his temper, snapped, and he punched Dan squarely in the jaw. His knuckles crunching pleasantly as they connected with Dan’s face, he allowed himself a sensation of glee that put the first real smile on his face in days.

 

Staggering, it took the Douche a moment to gather himself, before facing him again. And Lucifer immediately knew that something was amiss, as a nauseating feeling of dread replaced his joy and put his stomach in all kinds of knots. Moving very slowly, Dan raised his arm, pointing at the elevator, and ordered tersely, “Upstairs.”

 

Without meaning to, his spine straightened at the sharp directive, but despite the dire tone he remained frozen to the spot, not quite believing what had just happened. But there was no denying it; _Mum was back_. And Daniel had been right: she was furious.

 

Unlike Daniel, he had ample experience with a pissed off Mum, though.

 

“Mother,” he greeted petulantly. “Back by unpopular demand, I see.” He turned his head away, shushing the annoying voice in his head that admonished him to not turn his back on a potential threat. But what was there to worry about? Suffering through Mum’s lecture would put a damper on his mood, sure, but there really wasn’t much else she could do.

 

“Unless you want your staff to witness, I’d suggest you move.” He snapped his eyes back to her face and, despite his best intentions, swallowed hard.

 

“Witness what exactly?” he sneered instead of letting her see his uneasiness, and sipping languidly from his drink, projecting as much casualness and nonchalance as possible in this situation. “Detective Douche’s further debasement?”

 

“I _will_ smack your butt right here in front of them.” He jerked his head in the direction of his bustling staff, ears suddenly burning, and prayed that they were far too busy to notice the altercation at the bar. “Do _not_ take that tone with me, mister.” Stomach churning, he shoved the mental image of _that_ happening as far away as he possibly could. Knowing that it couldn’t actually hurt him, did _nothing_ to quell the acute mortification the prospect brought about. And if experience had taught him anything, there would be absolutely no doubt that Mum would follow through on her threat. So, there really wasn’t any other option but to push himself off the bar and heed her orders. He did do so with as much insolence as he dared to, mind you.

 

“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” he asked quietly once they’d reached the relative safety and quiet of the gallery and waited for the elevator.

 

“Overreacting?” Mum repeated incredulously, rounding in on him. “Young man, I have given you fair warning to keep that temper in check and stop your downward spiral into excessive drinking and partying. – Was I not clear enough during my last visit?” A snark already at the tip of his tongue, he swallowed his words as Mum just ploughed on. Her angry expression no less terrifying on Daniel’s face. “Was there any way you could have misunderstood my words?”

 

He threw his arms out in outrage, frustration and anger mixing toxically.

 

“Well, what did you expect, Mother?” he yelled angrily. “You can’t just waltz back into my life and expect me to jump to your every command! It’s not that easy! You obviously have been disillusioned by the idyllic fairy tale kingdom and its peaceful and obedient little peasants you no doubt created! But, spoiler alert, it doesn’t work like that here!” He barely got to finish his rant before Mum’s fingers closed tightly around his left ear and he was unceremoniously – and without regard to his physical integrity – hauled into the elevator.

 

“Ow!” he yelped loudly, immediately following the sharp pull of her fingers. His hand reaching up to try and wrestle his poor appendage out of her unyielding grip. “Mum! No – ow!” His protests remained unheeded as he was effortlessly dragged down to her height to experience the full force of her glare. It was not pretty.

 

“I have been very patient with you, Lucifer,” she lectured, giving his ear another evil twist. “Your behaviour is atrocious, and I certainly raised you better than that.”

 

Meanwhile, Lucifer was utterly distracted by the simple fact that it _hurt_. Because it shouldn’t be! There was no way a human should be able to cause him pain, unless the Detective was nearby.

 

“Why does it hurt? – Daniel’s human! It’s not supposed to be hurting!” Lucifer expressed his troubling thoughts, cursing himself for the pitiful whine in his voice.

 

“But I am not, son.” And without further ado, the elevator doors opened to his penthouse and he was given no other choice but to stumble along beside Mum as she strode towards his bedroom. “Thank you,” she muttered while dragging him towards his doom.

 

“What on earth are you thanking me for, Mother?” he complained loudly. “Giving you the opportunity to rip off my bloody ear?”

 

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lucifer. I’m not thanking you. Certainly not for this appalling behaviour,” she said. “No, Daniel was just commenting on the effectiveness of this measure.”

 

“What?” He yanked back in a desperate attempt to free his ear, only to be rewarded with an even sharper pain. Dad, it would probably hurt less if she was using actual pliers to pinch it. “OW! – Mum! Let go!” Daniel being privy to his debasement was already a heavy blow to his reputation. But until now he had been under the illusion that he wouldn’t be more than a silent – if unwanted – observer. It would certainly make their next encounter unpleasant and awkward enough. Knowing that he wasn’t merely watching but actually communicating with Mum was adding insult to already traumatic injury. They were most likely conversing merrily about his current predicament and comparing notes while he was about to perish from humiliation. What blood wasn’t in his tightly pinched ear, gathered to flush his face red hot in both embarrassment and anger.

 

Meanwhile, Mum had successfully hauled him into his untidy bedroom, not once deeming it necessary to respond to his fairly reasonable demands. She took a seat on his unmade bed, forcing him to bend at the waist or risk the loss of an ear. A possibility that didn’t sound half bad, since he supposed having the ear removed couldn’t possibly hurt as much as this. He hovered above her; the uncomfortable angle made him put a hand on her thigh unless he’d fancy losing his balance. And apparently Mum really planned to go all in, because with another tug on his ear, he sprawled gracelessly across her waiting lap and the bed.

 

“Mum! Mum! What are you doing?” he asked desperately, scrambling to pull himself off Dan’s ridiculously broad thigh while simultaneously hoping that he wouldn’t look like a flailing child. His attempts proved futile though, as Mum simply put her hand – or rather Daniel’s large paw – on his hip and pressed him firmly against her stomach. His upper body rested on the bed while his legs hung off, knees not quite touching the floor and his feet unable to find purchase. He gave one last vain try to pull away before reluctantly settling and balling his hands angrily, one hand sneaking up to surreptitiously rub at the lingering throb in his ear. He would not make a spectacle for Detective Douche to see and taunt him with later! This whole ordeal was humiliating enough without adding to it.

 

“What does it look like I’m doing, son?” she replied, securing his legs between her thighs in a vice-like hold and nipping any attempt to kick her in the bud. Not that he’d fancy suffering through her retribution if he did. _That_ had been a lesson well and truly learned a long time ago.

 

“It looks like you’ve lost your bloody mind!” he couldn’t help snapping at her. A sharp pain engulfed his right cheek in retaliation and his hips hitched forward involuntarily, the soreness in his ear forgotten all of a sudden.

 

“Watch your mouth,” she ordered sternly, and a second smack immediately followed. And just like every other time he’d found himself in this situation in the past, he was baffled by the simple fact that it hurt. Like _a lot_.

 

He’d really have to rethink his theory that Mum must have reached a point where she thought him too old for this kind of treatment. Or work harder at convincing her.

 

“You know,” he bit out through clenched teeth. “I’m much too old for this! – Can’t we just talk about this like proper, _upright_ adults?”

 

“Oh, we’ll talk in a bit, son, don’t worry,” she replied. “I am very much interested in your explanations for your continued disobedience. But you’re gonna be facing the carpet.”

 

His face burned with an incredible blush. It was absolutely humiliating! Worse than anything he’d ever had to endure in his entire existence! And here he’d thought that he’d been around long enough to be immune to the sentiment. Apparently not. Being placed over Daniel’s lap and smacked like a child was jumping to the top of that list with record speed.

 

All the while, Mum just kept on slapping her palm down with incredible force, making his body twitch and twist involuntarily with each descent. His hands fisted into the sheets as he battled another wave of anger at his current predicament and particularly Mum’s interference. Couldn’t the blasted woman have stayed at her new cosy universe? Didn’t she have new children there to torture? Her efforts in finding a way back to earth must have been solely founded in making his life miserable again. Sometimes it seemed that she lived to torment him, in the most humiliating manners, no less. It didn’t matter that he’d told her a gazillion times that adults did not get spanked anymore – especially not by their mothers who shared a body with someone he was only grudgingly and very tentatively accepting as a partner or friend. Way to blow his reputation, _thank you, Mum_.

 

He arched his back as she caught the back of his thigh with a fierce smack, only just managing to supress a shriek.

 

“Mum, stop!” he demanded instead, pushing himself up. It only resulted in an even harder volley of smacks and Mum’s unyielding fingers pinching his neck as she pressed his face back into the mattress.

 

“Stay down and stop struggling, Lucifer,” she said. “This can always get worse.”

 

“Worse? How on bloody earth can this get any worse?” he yelled angrily.

 

“Maybe this will prove more effective without the slacks,” she replied and to his utter mortification her hand snaked around his waist to fumble with the button and zipper. He lurched forward as far as possible (which unfortunately wasn’t far at all), pressing his hips down in a desperate attempt to trap her hand and keep his trousers exactly where they were supposed to be.

 

“Nonono!” This could _not_ be happening! He rallied his strength again, pushing his upper body slightly up to squeeze his own hand between his body and the mattress, fingers frantically gripping the fastening of his trousers to shield them from Mum’s nimble fingers, all the while cursing himself for not taking the time to search for his belt as he had hurried to get to work in the morning. His attempts to pull himself forward to get away were as inefficient as ever, but he heaved a sigh of relief as Mum withdrew her hand, his fingers closing around the waistband, only to realise that she had succeeded in popping the button. He cursed loudly and she smacked him again, forcefully, right at the crease where butt met thigh.

 

“Mu-um! I-”

 

“I’d think well and hard before speaking, Lucifer,” she advised in a dire tone. “Unless you’d like to fetch a hairbrush.” She gave his trousers a hard tug, effortlessly slipping them from his grip and down until they bunched somewhere in the vicinity of his knees. He kicked his legs in frustration, shoes thumping against the floor, and a growl built in his chest that he didn’t even try to bite back. Why bother? His situation couldn’t possibly get any worse at this point.

 

Mum readjusted his position, and continued her onslaught, seemingly tireless. Funnily enough, Daniel’s hand had never seemed quite as large as it now felt with every smack to his thinly-clad backside. She moved up and down his cheeks, never breaking her stride and each smack as stinging as the one before.

 

“Okay, I think that’s enough,” he said, after an eternity of never-ending pain, biting back yet another yelp, while twisting to put his hand on his butt to shield it from further harm. Or at least to get a respite from Mum’s ministrations.

 

“I’ll be the judge of that,” she replied mercilessly, circling his wrist and effortlessly pulling it away from her desired target, never relenting. It stung! And it hurt so badly at this point that he felt the tell-tale tingling of tears welling up. And wouldn’t that be just swell? Weeping like a child while his Mother turned his bum five shades of red and Detective Douche got front row seats to the spectacle? Probably enjoying popcorn? No, no, that just wouldn’t do!

 

Swallowing thickly to supress a building sob, he pressed his free hand to his eyes, forcing the tears back by sheer willpower. Sadly, it proved only marginally successful.

 

The next volley of smacks solely targeted the crease of his bottom, right where it met thigh and he twisted his hips in a desperate attempt to roll off Mum’s lap before the weeping commenced. Unfortunately, he was very much trapped with his legs clamped between her thighs and her heavy hand on his hip that still held his wrist captive.

 

With regret he noticed that his energy reserves were pretty much depleted from his latest escapades, and the fear that he might not get out of this debasement without humiliating himself further forced itself to the forefront of his mind. Maybe he’d need to do some pleading to avoid the unthinkable: letting Detective Douche see his break-down. Sadly, he had been in this position often enough to know what Mum wanted to hear. He’d just have to employ that knowledge and use it to his advantage.

 

“Mum! Please!” he forced out through ragged breathing, willing a note of desperation into his voice and hoping against hope that it would suffice. But the unrelenting smacking continued without pause or response, forcing highly undignified yelps out of him that only increased in volume with each whack. His resistance was slowly but surely drained and he bit his lip, pressing his fist hard against his mouth to muffle the noise.

 

In hindsight, he shouldn’t have bothered, as Mum moved her focus further down to also cover the unprotected skin at the top of his thighs, and he hollered. If Daniel ever brought this up, he’d probably have to get rid of him permanently, but he couldn’t help it! It hurt!

 

“Okay! Ah! I’m sorry? – I’m sorry, Mum!” He wasn’t sure that was what Mum wanted to hear, but he was relying on past experiences here and anyway he had to try at this point.

 

“I’m glad to hear that,” she replied, but to his utter chagrin didn’t stop. A sob escaped before he could bite it back down, and somehow his body found the energy to blush again.

 

“Really sorry.” He wiped furiously at his face, as the first tears spilled over.

 

“Mmh, what exactly for?”

 

“Fo-ow!” he started, only to cut himself off as another sob threatened to emerge. “For losing my temper!”

 

“Yes,” she agreed, but cold-heartedly kept slapping him. “For all your talk about being an adult and too old for this, you sure throw the most impressing tantrums. – It _is_ going to stop, Lucifer, or you will find yourself in this position again.”

 

“Okay!” There really wasn’t anything else to do but take the blow to his reputation and agree with her. He could not deny any longer that she was definitely at an advantage here.

 

“You’re also going to work out a more appropriate way in dealing with your problems, mister,” she lectured sternly, slowing her rhythm. Not that it made a difference at this point. He was already crying pitifully. “Alcohol and drugs are not a permanent solution. – And don’t tell me that they don’t affect you that much. Your Detective still makes you vulnerable and you’re going to take better care of yourself.”

 

“Yes!” he agreed quickly, lifting his face just enough to make himself heard before pressing it to the mattress again to muffle his pathetic weeping.

 

“And lastly, you are going to stop mistreating Daniel and your brother. – It’s not their fault that you’re in a bad mood. – They offered to help – repeatedly, I might add, and you’ve been nothing but rude.” Her slaps increased in force again and he nodded vigorously, not trusting himself to speak anymore. Thankfully Mum accepted it. “You _will_ apologise to them, Lucifer.”

 

He nodded again, feeling thoroughly dejected, sobbing wretchedly and no longer able to struggle. It almost seemed as if the strain of the last weeks, the disaster with Cain, the Detective seeing what he’d desperately tried to keep from her, the partying, the continued detours into drugs and booze, the lack of restful sleep, were finally catching up with him and the distress just poured out by means of tears and sobs. He didn’t even notice that Mum had stopped smacking him, until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder urging him to scoot backwards.

 

He slid gracelessly to the floor, kneeling between her thighs, and pressed his tear-streaked face against Daniel’s jeans. Shoulders heaving, he tried desperately to stop crying, or at the very least _sobbing_ , but his efforts only seemed to make it worse. With every inhale and exhale his chest constricted painfully, and that combined with the ache on his butt, just increased the flow of tears.

 

“There, there, all finished,” Mum shushed him over the sound of his sobbing, stroking his back and neck soothingly. “You took that really well.” He snorted loudly, the sound interspersed with another sob, hands moving to cover the burning skin on his backside and give it a gentle rub. It was awfully sore and another sob rose in his throat at the realisation. “Come here.” She took his shoulders, pulled his face away from her thigh, and turned his body to face her, before drawing her arms around him and crushing him to her chest. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, arms coming to rest loosely around her waist, and for once enjoyed her gentle touch.

 

Her comforting hands hurtled him back to a time when he’d been very little and had craved his Mother’s touch after his older brothers had left him behind again, deeming him too young to participate in their games.

 

He tried stilling the tears, he really did, but they seemed to be having a mind of their own and just kept on flowing. Mum’s gentle ministrations didn’t abate though, and her fingers felt really nice in his hair and on his neck and he relished in her attention, not really wanting to pull back and risk losing the much-needed comfort.

 

“Now, what’s all this carrying on about, son?” she asked softly, brushing a kiss to his temple. It felt weird with Daniel’s scruff scratching along his face, but he couldn’t care less about that right now. He was still weeping, breath hitching every now and then with a sob, and just buried his nose deeper in her neck. Her fingers scratched along his scalp, before moving down to massage his neck. And, boy, did that feel good! “Mmh?” she prompted again after a few moments. Since his eyes still refused to cease leaking and he didn’t trust his voice yet, he opted to remain silent.

 

Mum moved slightly, her hand travelling down to the small of his back and before he could realise what she was planning to do, she had already pulled the waistband of his briefs back to peek at his butt.

 

“Mu-um!” he whined loudly. Was there no end to his humiliation today?

 

“Just checking, son,” she said, readjusting his underwear, and patted his back soothingly. “It’s very unusual for you to carry on like that.” Despite her continued attempt at shaming him as much as possible, he couldn’t get himself to pull away from her. It was nice to be held, although it went without saying that he’d deny it if Daniel ever brought it up. They stayed like that for a long time, until his breathing returned to normal and his tears dried up.

 

“Daniel thinks I was too harsh with you,” Mum said, her breath tickling the side of his face, as she kissed his temple again. He angled his head slightly to peek at her through tear-crusted eyes. He must look a bloody mess after all this needless crying and carrying on.

 

“I didn’t think I’d ever say this,” he replied, voice hoarse. “But I agree with him.” She chuckled softly, chest rumbling very un-Mum-like, and ran her fingers through his hair again.

 

“It was adequate,” she said.

 

“Did he have to watch?” he asked, not quite able to keep the whine out of his voice.

 

“You should give him more credit, son. Daniel asked for leniency about halfway through,” she replied, easing her embrace as he pushed back. She eyed him critically and he suddenly felt horribly self-conscious kneeling between her thighs, his trousers still bunched around his ankles, and his face undoubtedly looking terrible. Dropping his gaze to stare at Daniel’s midsection, he cautiously reached back and slipped his shoes and slacks off. It took him a moment longer than necessary and it would have definitely taken less time if he’d stood up first, but he’d be damned if he rose with his trousers tangled around his legs. It would be far less embarrassing standing in front of Daniel in just his underwear and shirt.

 

He chanced another quick glance at Mum’s face, wiping his face with his shirtsleeve and grimaced at the disgusting mess.

 

“Alright, my boy,” Mum said. “Up you get.” A strong hand around his arm gently coaxed him to standing. He shuffled his feet awkwardly. Maybe he should have opted to pull the trousers _up_ instead of kicking them off. “You’re having a long overdue shower and then it’s off to bed. You need sleep.”

 

“But-”

 

“Do you want me to scrub you down?” she asked ominously. “Because that can be arranged.” His face flushed – again – and he quickly let his gaze drop to the floor, mumbling a dejected, “No.”

 

“Then scoot,” she ordered, flicking her hand in the direction of his bathroom. There really wasn’t anything else to do but obey at this point. He really, really didn’t want company in the bathroom, least of all Mum’s – in Dan’s body no less. Thinking about it, he’d almost go as far as saying that that sounded like his worst possible nightmare.

 

 

An eternity later, after taking all the time he dared to thoroughly clean himself, carefully inspecting his burning rear end in the mirror and feeling immensely sorry for himself at the unpleasant sight, and steeling himself to face Mum again, he emerged. Only to immediately realise that the person awkwardly perched on the sofa was not Mum, but Detective Douche, who looked about ready to faint.

 

Blushing to the tips of his ears, he stopped short in the doorway to the living room, cursing himself for opting to wear just a t-shirt and underwear; his favourite gown lost somewhere in the clutter strewn about his flat.

 

“There you are,” Dan started, clearly uncomfortable, rising awkwardly. “I was beginning to fear that you’d drowned.”

 

“What are you doing here?” he asked, battling annoyance and embarrassment all at the same time.

 

“I’m…- Your mom will be right back,” he stammered. “There was … a thing with … a star? Or a sun or something? – It erupted? Or exploded…” He looked at him helplessly. “It’s complicated… I didn’t really understand. It’s… anyway, it was urgent and she’ll be right back. – I’m supposed to keep you company until then.” There was an awkward moment where they both shuffled their feet anxiously and Lucifer seriously considered wrenching his own heart out of his chest right here and now to put himself out of this misery. But with his luck recently, he’d probably just go to Hell and have to relive this horrible encounter for the rest of eternity. “Are you alright?”

 

“This is my own personal hell,” he groaned lowly, pressing his fingers to his eyes, before glaring up at Dan again, as a thought struck him. He _was_ awfully successful in masking embarrassment with anger. Why not take advantage of that? “Anyway, as you can see. I’m fine. – Please leave.”

 

“Uh, no, I-” Dan cleared his throat loudly. A disgusting sound, if there ever was one. “I can’t.”

 

“Why not? – Clearly even you, with your limited brain function, will be able to operate an elevator.”

 

“No, your mom was very … adamant,” he replied. “And she’s _scary_. If you want me to leave, you’ll have to throw me off the balcony.”

 

“Don’t tempt me, Daniel,” he said with a wry smile. It was good to know that someone else clearly thought Mum could be frightening.

 

“But seriously, man, are you okay?” Lucifer looked up sharply, gauging Dan’s expression. He really did look like he genuinely cared and not at all like someone about to mock and taunt. He’d know. He had enough siblings to have ample experience.

 

“I’m… fine.” And that was about as far as he was willing to open up to Detective Douche and he sharply turned away, heading for the bar. He really, really needed a drink. Who wouldn’t after this disaster of a day?

 

“Uh, no,” Dan said, following and taking the tumbler from his fingers. Affronted, he glared at him. “Your mom was pretty clear on that matter.”

 

“Oh, really, was she now?”

 

“Yes. She left a whole bunch of instructions, actually.”

 

“Like what?”

 

“I’m hoping she’ll be back before I actually have to carry them out,” Dan admitted. “Because you’ll be pissed and I don’t want to. – Your Mother seems better equipped to deal with you.” He again felt a blush creeping up his neck, and almost missed Dan’s brow furrowing, before he turned away and mumbled, “No! I am not putting him to bed!”

 

“What on earth-” Lucifer started, only to be shushed by Dan.

 

“And what am I supposed to do if he doesn’t want to? – No, I am _not_ doing that.” Lucifer could only stare flabbergasted at Daniel. “And you know what? I’m gonna let him have ice cream.”

 

And that was how Lucifer got to spend a surprisingly pleasant evening with Daniel, lounging on his couch with ice cream, a rerun of Bones, and manly chatter, until exhaustion got the better of him and he fell into a peaceful slumber. Mum returned sometime later, gently rousing him to relocate to his bed, where she tucked him in and pressed a kiss to his hair (he blamed the pleasant feeling of warmth spreading through him solely on his fatigue).

 

His inquiry about his chances of success in playing Mum and Dan up against each other merely evoked a chuckle though, and shortly afterwards sleep came over him again.


End file.
